


Old Griefs and Old Longings

by Verecunda



Category: Frontier Wolf - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Fictober 2019, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 11:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/pseuds/Verecunda
Summary: A wounded heart must have time to heal before it can be given again.
Relationships: Alexios Flavius Aquila/Cunorix, Alexios Flavius Aquila/Hilarion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Old Griefs and Old Longings

**Author's Note:**

> Written on Tumblr for Fictober 2019, prompt #27 - "Can you wait for me?" and slightly tidied up.

From that first laughing together on the ramparts of Onnum, that first promise of new friendship, the warmth between Alexios and his senior centenarius had grown by the day, sustaining them through the sorrows that still lingered ghost-like after all that had happened, and through all the new trials they came upon in Belgica as they moulded their First Attacotti into true Frontier Wolves. It bound them together, their hearts running as closely as their minds; and so it felt only natural when one night, as they talked late together in the Commander’s office, Hilarion’s smile softened, his gaze lost its usual half-mocking gleam, and he leaned in close to meet Alexios’ already-parted lips with his own.

At that first moth-wing touch, Alexios’ heart thrilled within him. This had been a moment long in coming, long yearned-for and long put-off by both of them. But even as the first bright flaring of joy took him, it was followed close on by another: the memory of when he had last felt this same keen, near unbearable flood of tenderness and excitement — and at once, his heart clenched, his breathlessness became painful, and the intensity of emotion within him became something close to terror.

It was too much; he twisted his head away. “Hilarion — Hilarion, wait.”

Hilarion released him at once, bewilderment all over his face. “Alexios…?”

“I…” He struggled for the words, but they would not come, and he hung his head, miserable and ashamed. “I cannot. Please, forgive me — I cannot.”

As if called up by the kiss, old ghosts rose before his eyes: Cunorix’s face alight as he held up his son for the first time; the good, honest roughness of his hand as Alexios clasped it that first time; the delicate sunlight of early spring dancing upon his russet hair the day he had helped him hunt his wolf… but just as quickly, rushing on the heels of the good memories, came the bad: firelight dancing upon drawn swords around the broken walls of Bremenium; Cunorix’s dead weight bearing down upon him; the blood, black against the dark snow…

He was afraid to meet Hilarion’s eyes, dreading what he would see there; but when he did, he saw only a deep, understanding sadness.

“It is too soon,” Hilarion said, putting the thing simply into words. He gave a heavy sigh and hung his head. “Of course it is too soon. I am sorry.”

But Alexios shook his head. “No, it is I am sorry.”

Shame curdled within him: shame for not thinking, for unwittingly leading Hilarion into this blind pass. Shame at the poisonous inner voice that whispered that whatever he might tell himself, however life must go on, it was betrayal of the first love even to think of another.

“Well.” One corner of Hilarion’s mouth crooked upwards. “I should say then that we’re sorry enough on both sides. No need for more of it.”

“Please believe me,” Alexios said, quickly, fearful lest he misunderstand. “It is not that I don’t want this. I do. I want this — I want you.”

“You’re only human, after all,” said Hilarion, with a flash of his most infuriating grin.

Despite himself, Alexios laughed: a short, strained thing — but real. Then, recovering, he forced himself on: “I thought I was ready, but the wound is still too raw yet.” Even as he spoke the words, it seemed to ache deep in his heart. “I love you, Hilarion, you must know this, and I don’t wish to give you anything but a whole heart, but for that will I need more time. Will you — that is, _can_ you — wait for me?”

“Wait for you,” echoed Hilarion, with a low laugh. “Ye gods! I like how you say that, as if I’m somewhere miles ahead in the distance, with you running to catch up, when the truth is I am where I have always been, following after you like a lost pup.

“_Yes_,” he said, heading off Alexios’ demand for him to be serious, “I will wait for you, Alexios, and gladly.”

With light hands, took Alexios by the shoulders and drew him close, so close they could lay their brows together. For a long time there was no more than that: they simply stood together, close and still, Alexios’ hands at Hilarion’s arms, Hilarion’s breath soft against his cheek. No more was said: all else that still wanted to be understood passed unspoken between them, a solemn pledge in the warm silence, until at last Alexios’ heart untwisted and he could breathe again.

When at last they drew apart, he sat behind his desk again — while Hilarion assumed his customary position draped against the opposite wall — and said, with a brisk smile, “Well then, centenarius, to return to this business with the quartermaster’s inventory…”


End file.
